Shadow to my light.

It’s 5:48 in the morning as I start writing this.

I haven’t slept at all.

I know some people would say, “Val barely ever sleeps,” and they would swear by it.

My sleep is picky though. Somewhere around April last year, I started having genuinely good nights of sleep. I don’t know how it happened, because for the better part of my life, I simply didn’t sleep well.

What I do know is that I’m a very light sleeper. Most of the time, the slightest noise can wake me up. It could be something as huge as a pin dropping tiny, almost imaginary and I promise that would be enough. It could be someone snoring in the next room. Or maybe I’m just excited, in love, extremely anxious… or in a new territory where I feel like I’m invading space. That part is usually awkward, because tossing and turning is irritating to whoever is asleep next to you.

But somehow, for about a year now
..mostly while at home, I’ve learned to sleep through even pins dropping. Beautiful sleep. (Ask a light sleeper how much they treasure their sleep. Thanks.)

Last night, though, sleep didn’t stand a chance.

I came to bed knowing I’d manage at least some rest. Ha! The joke was on me. No matter how hard I tried to force my eyes shut, I couldn’t. Every time I felt myself almost drifting off, I snapped back awake to a racing heart, teeth grinding, throat tight, feeling like I was being choked to death by one of my own teeth.

The anxiety started in the morning.

For almost seven days now, there’s been someone who seems to have dedicated their life to insulting me. Some people genuinely cannot take rejection. Is it an ego thing? A self-esteem thing? A confidence thing? I don’t know.

I decided I wasn’t going to respond to the insults. I never respond to insults anyway…especially the ones that sound desperately dumb.

Instead, every time he insulted me, I blocked the number.

Yes, I also wondered how many WhatsApp accounts one person could possibly have. And how many phones. I remember Lynn asking me last week, “How is he pulling that? Is he putting a SIM card in, registering WhatsApp, then switching again?” I couldn’t answer her because I was equally confused.

Every time I blocked him, another number would text me. Sometimes he’d say something like, “Block hii pia,” and then proceed to say something incredibly stupid.

Because I also understand psychopaths, I left it at that.

At one point in January 2024, I received a WhatsApp message from him that read, “I’m going to kidnap you, and I’m going to kill you.” I shared the screenshot with a friend who advised me to get that thing from the police station…is it called an OB? Something like that. I thought, That’s a lot of work, and honestly, I fear the police. I also knew this was one of his tantrum episodes.

The wildest thing he ever said to me was back in April 22nd, 2023….he told me he was going to bewitch me. I laughed so hard.

In January 2022, he said he would locate my workplace and come unalive himself while I watched. I mostly just shook my head at his tantrums.

But yesterday, he overstepped. I said “hapana Val, huyu anakuja sana sasa”

So I unblocked one of his numbers and called him. The first number didn’t go through, and I immediately thought, “Okay Val, you’re in a maze.” Because believe me, this man has many numbers.

On the second try, the call went through. I knew he would pick.

In my head, I thought, I’ve worked on my nervous system for so long. This is the master of stoicism checking in. No sooner had he received the call (yes, I finally got to use that phrase) than I was already on my second word. I’ll call them words because, like I said earlier, I genuinely don’t know how to hurl insults. Aki Huwa sijui matusi honestly.

I started with, “What’s with your dish… respect!” Then I asked, “What’s wrong with your head?” I hate how I shake and stutter when I’m upset. I don’t even remember how it escalated into yelling at the top of my voice, but I remember saying, “You’re insufferable. You’re pathetic. You’re disgusting.” I went on and on, even after he hung up.

After the yelling, I sat down.

And I couldn’t think.
I called another friend who advised me to get a restraining order. I knew, in my head, that it would be genuinely exhausting but I also knew it would help. I decided on not getting it anyway (but in case I turn up dead, this should be your lead. Dark joke? Okay sorry). A psychopath has been on my case for years. That’s what not funny! For a couple of times he’s sworn on killing me.

I went through the day thinking I had released all the anger I’d been holding onto from every insult he’s ever thrown at me.

Until night came.

Until every time I tried to drift into sleep, I snapped back awake, heart racing, teeth clenched, throat tight.

I feel upset. So upset.

One of my favorite things to say, besides “genuinely,” is “I lead with my intuition.” I don’t know how I failed to smell how pathetic this would turn out before allowing him into my space at one point.

I also can’t understand how some people take rejection so personally. It’s never that serious. There are billions of amazing people walking this earth. I’ve taken my own Ls, and as painful as some of them were to swallow, I respected other people’s decisions.

Some people are just beyond help. Or like I told him, insufferable. Pathetic. Disgusting.

That’s how I haven’t slept at all.

That’s how I ended up sending a couple of quotes I found interesting to an amazing someone, then stopping myself when I realized I might be spamming. That’s how I picked up a book instead.

And because I had so much pent up anger with nowhere to put it, I figured I’d vent here.

And maybe leave a lead behind in case it’s ever gonna be needed.

Moral lesson….. let’s please learn to accept no as an answer without attaching a bunch of negative emotions to it.

It’s now 6:31.

Okay. Bye.

See you in another rant.

Love and light.

I had a dream last night.

I was heading somewhere with a group of friends, one of them was driving.

His attention slipped, not recklessly, just under the weight of too much, he probably got distracted by a thought or something and the road tilted toward disaster.

He fought the wheel, correcting, concentrating, trying hard not to lose us.

Everyone panicked. I stayed still, strangely calm, watching effort where certainty should have been.

I was calm, ready for whatever awaited my fate particularly. Almost like a rush and everything else was playing so fast right before my eyes.

I could see my friend who was driving, trying everything to salvage The situation, and all I could think in my head was, “it’s already too late, and I was braced for this.’

Apparently, the crash never came. Later… When he came to a halt, just a little outside his car where we’d stopped to process the shock….laughing, he asked, “Val we were almost dying yet you didn’t flinch, didn’t get scared, I didn’t see any trace of fear within you..?”

I didn’t answer then, because how creepy would it have sounded at that time if I blurted out this words “I was already braced, I walk around braced”

But honestly, even effort doesn’t give you control and fear doesn’t put your hands on the wheel.

Anyway, I woke up and didn’t give much thought to the dream..just until now.

Love and light

I turn 29 today.

That’s the whole point. 

I’m turning a new age. I was talking to a friend last night, and somewhere in between she said, “It’s an hour to your birthday.” I told her, “Wacha nidoz haraka kabla birthday yangu inipate.”

I slept. Peacefully. Because I spent the day galavanting around my village and following kids around.

Speaking of kids as I was seated in church, a small lovely girl who was sitting just in front of me kept turning back to stare at me. Maureen told me, “Pea huyu mtoto sweety.” I grabbed a sweet from my handbag and handed it to her. I was keen to notice that the sweet didn’t excite her. But eventually, she yielded to her intrusive thoughts.

She stood up, walked to where I was sitting, sat beside me, held me by my waist from the back, and rested her head on my shoulder like it was the most natural thing for her to do. She kept squeezing my side, like it was an exhale for her, like she just needed a shoulder to lean on.

I felt awkward at first because, as clingy and touchy as I am, that’s usually reserved for very specific people. Of course, I love kids and somehow, they are always drawn to me. I had a little pep talk in my head and told myself, “If she’s comfortable here, then I’ll just leave her alone.” And I did.

She traced every bit of skin that showed. She touched my tattoos like they were the most delicate pieces of art she had ever come across. Then she touched my other hand. Then she kept looking at my collarbones. Then my nails. She asked, “Hizi ni makucha zako?”

I told her, “Hapana, ni bandika.”

That was basically the first thing she said to me after all the touching.

Then she moved to my hair. She tried pulling it probably to confirm whether it was real. I squeaked, “Ouch, hiyo ni uchungu.” She stopped pulling, and as if to make it up to me, she removed the accessories from her hair and clipped them onto mine.

Then she went back to holding my waist, squeezing every so often.

She looked at Maureen, who was seated just on the other end, then asked me, “Huyu ni sisterako?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

She looked like she had something else to say, but I guess she decided not to. She continued squeezing my waist. At one point, she tried tracing my bra line that felt intrusive, but I let her.

I tried making small talk with her. I can’t quite recall her name (this is my greatest weakness the moment someone tells me their name, it’s like I forget to listen. I forget faces and places easily too).

Anyway, I asked her where she comes from. She mentioned a place I can’t remember, but she said she was visiting her grandma around my village. I told her, “Nice.”

Then I asked if the dress she was wearing was her Christmas dress. She nodded enthusiastically. I smiled at her and told her she looked lovely.

I got us a snack and she wanted us to exchange. I politely told her, “Sahi mikono yetu ni chafu, so hatuezi exchange.” She just held hers in her hand. I don’t know if she doubted how safe it was or maybe her mum had lectured her about not accepting things from strangers. But I wasn’t a stranger to her. I bet she knows me from her previous life.

Then something came up and I told her I’d see her around. That’s how I lost her. And I keep thinking, I wish I had held her back. I should have given her a hug before I left. 

Anyway, I slept so peacefully.

I woke up to a call from Adoli. God bless his soul. Then I checked my phone and found an M-Pesa message from Joyline. I went online to text her and found she had left a very short, thoughtful message and that’s when it happened. I broke down. Not cute. The ugly kind.

This girl… I could say so much about her. Someday, I will. May God bless her for me.

In the middle of breaking down, my phone pinged it was Marvin Otieno Okung’u, my campus best friend. This one saw me through the most. He was BJM/1004… I was BJM/1005. He sang Happy Birthday to me and wished me a good day. My heart melted. And after hanging up, I felt guilty because I never wished him anything on his birthday.

I jumped onto YouTube to listen to “I Have a Father” by Chandler Moore my latest favourite, thanks to Adoli.

Then my cousin Linda called and boom she started singing. She has such an angelic voice.

And honestly, that’s how my day started.

On the 20th, I wrote and said I wanted today to be peaceful and calm. That’s my essence.

These simple joys the calls, the singing, the message all the way from Liverpool,.. these are the things that make me, me.

You know, I wanted to sleep before 12:00 a.m. last night because I didn’t want to cry. But I’m Valary, and I cry at everything.

This has been quite a year and everything I encountered, I needed it. Well, apart from that one night I went out with a friend in Kisii and somehow we lost each other and I didn’t have my phone. I could have died that night. The trauma. I’ve never spoken about it but I will, someday.

The few times I went off on people and later realized I could have acted better.

Watching myself slowly move from a temperamental mess to a regulated soul.

The fact that I no longer wear overthinking and anxiety like a badge of honour.

That nowadays, I don’t run away from mirrors …in fact, I love mirrors. I talk to my reflection more than I talk to people, honestly. I see myself.

That there’s no trace of bitterness or anger within me. I don’t know how this happened, but my heart is so full of peace. 

Nowadays, I’m aware of my thoughts. I can literally stop a thought, or pay attention to it, sit with it, observe it, and not lose myself. I’ve met myself. I know thoughts are just things.

I know it all begins in the mind.

And to random little sweet children who walk into my space and show me so much love thank you.

To everyone who has contributed to my growth this year, I say Asante sana. 

To lovers and friends who turned into strangers a long the way, I wish you nothing but peace and love.

28 has been about shadow work. That’s everything I can account for. And I am so proud that I survived it. And for the millionth time this month, I love the person I am now so, so much.

So happy birthday, Val. May your 29th year be full of EASE, FLOW, ALIGNMENT, ABUNDANCE, and JOY. And play hard… because this is your last stretch in your 20s.

I love you. I see you.

Side note…..Later in the evening, I met the girl from church again and joked about her buying me fries. I was exhausted, thinking about showering and cooking pilau for my people. I hope she grows into the angel she already is. I hope the world doesn’t deal her with extremes.

And that’s how I transitioned from 28 to 29.

Grateful.

Love and light, loves.

I am bawling my eyes out.

I wanted to write a diary entry so that I could cry really well.

I have been extremely excited about December. But I have not really gotten into hyping my birthday. I think I start now.

When I say this year did rounds on me, it genuinely did. I was telling a friend earlier that I’ve had very intimate time with God, and now I just need time to party. I said something like, “nataka sasa nipige sherehe moja ama mbili safi.” I was yelling on the voice note because my mom wasn’t around. I even told her, “I’m yelling because wenye nyumba hawako.”

When I tell you everything I envisioned for myself this year, I didn’t get any of it. As in any. Nothing. Zero. And yet, I also had this vision board that I unintentionally got printed out, and as I was looking at it this morning, I smiled. I’m trying to understand the disconnect between what I truly wanted deep within me… and how I can still look at my vision board and smile.

A lot of things went south. A lot of pain was felt. And I’ve grown an entirely thicker skin a very thick skin, honestly.

My birthday is coming on the 26th. I know I’ll write something then. I just want it to be calm and peaceful. Calm. Peaceful.

There has been so much beauty born out of pain this year. I have experienced extreme pain. I thought I knew pain, until I came face to face with it. I lived through it. I came out better.

I have pent-up emotions that I really need to release. I know it will happen whether I like it or not. Just like how I want to party hard I have no idea how this will happen, but it’s got to happen.

Last year I said, “This year didn’t turn out to be what I expected, but it turned out to be exactly what it should have been.” I maintain the same sentiments this year.

I’m turning a big girl’s age, and I promise I’m going to be the most childish adult because yes! I am the adult in my life right now. And so I want to excite the child inside me as she gets to explore the flowers growing in my chest for the first time. I want to live now. I recognize I have just been existing. I want to live, and I want to live out loud. In fact, I just might dye my hair a bright shade of re… crimson, maybe. I bet.

So technically, adulting is closed. I am about to celebrate my inner child for a very long time. A very long time.

And the number of times I’ve repeated this to myself is insane….
“Honestly, if I didn’t have to go through that, I wouldn’t be the person I am now. And I love the person I am now.”

Okay, I’m done bawling. I guess I’ll continue tomorrow… or maybe today marks the end of my meltdown for this year I don’t know.

Either way, my heart is just so full of gratitude. Despite everything, I love the version of myself I’ve met this year, and probably that is my biggest win of the year.

Cheers loves

Before I jump into this writeup, I think it’s important for me to say this first… a person’s background has never been a big deal to me. It’s just… whatever. I consider it surface-level. I genuinely believe that with the right mindset and alignment, no one is ever out of anyone’s league.

That said, I think it’s safe to jump straight into my yapping. I’ll be writing as I go, so this might be a little messy but it will be entirely authentic, based on my POVs, sprinkled with my traumas and personal experiences. Haaaaaah!

This might come off a little superficial. It was inspired by a conversation on my favourite podcast, The Joyride. The episode was titled “We Don’t Talk About Class” (https://youtu.be/RptE32B0KcU?si=_DmgUUocc2-O-53J). Great insights. Great POVs.

The conversation mainly revolved around “dating up,” but from a male perspective and some of the things discussed stuck with me.

Classism and dating.

At some point, Wanjiru asks Ben, “Does it excite guys dating girls who are out of their league?” Just the question alone stirred something in me, and I was curious to hear his response. He answered with a very blunt, solid yes.

That sent me into my head, sorting through my own dating experiences.

I have been accused of being a “gold digger” not by the men I’ve dated, but by busybodies who thought they knew me better. Back in the day, that used to bother me a lot. In one or two situations, I even found myself trying to explain just how not a gold digger I was. But once I realized that people judge others based on their own traumas, I stopped. Truly whatever floats their boat.

For context, I get terrified asking or borrowing money from people. Most of the time, I just make do with what I have. Contentment.

Anyway, that wasn’t even my main point.
Growing up, I used to feel embarrassed about saying I was raised in the countryside. I associated it with naivety and all the negative stereotypes people love to attach to it. Slowly, I made peace with it. Then I accepted it. Eventually, I embodied it which explains why I’m now so loud about how much I love the countryside.

In many situations, I’m received very well… until someone asks, “So where did you go to primary?” and “High school?” And then, little by little, I see it in their faces. The judgment. The classism. How they start placing me just based on where I grew up.

About a year ago, someone asked me, “How do you manage to talk the way you do, yet you grew up in the village?” I didn’t even gasp. My brain literally stopped for a minute.

First of all how was I supposed to respond to that? And secondly how exactly are people raised in the village expected to talk or behave?

What I heard was…. “The audacity you have to be civilized, yet you are a villager.” And just like that, I was almost triggered back into the humiliation I once carried about my background.

So sometimes I find myself wondering “kwani, how are people from the village expected to behave? Can nothing good come out of the village?”

I’m not ignorant to the fact that many people in the countryside don’t have access to the kind of exposure others idolize. But that does not mean nothing good can come from there.

I digress.

I see the excitement men have when they “date up,” and I can almost understand it. Maybe if I were a guy, I’d understand it better. But as a woman, I know my deal breakers and they have nothing to do with someone’s background.

Have I been discarded before because of financial status or my approach to life? I genuinely think I have. Not because I was dependent, I wasn’t. But I think the guy wanted “status.” Someone to flaunt. Someone who drove a big car, made at least six figures, and maybe wasn’t obsessed with the countryside. I imagine my love for that life didn’t fit the image he wanted.

So maybe he just thought, “ebu niwache haka kaendelee kufigure out her shit.”

Still on the countryside… I’m loud about preferring it over the city, but I’m not closed minded. I’m open to wherever this beautiful life leads me.

As for men and classism, I think many men genuinely get excited about “dating up.” I think it does something to their esteem.

Making peace with this realization has brought me a lot of peace. I flow with whatever flows.

Side note…. I’ve never been a gold digger. But if I ever were, I’d make sure I was really good at it.

Cheers, loves.

I have made peace with my own death.

I’ve been thinking a lot about life and mortality lately. Not in a fearful way, but in a reflective one. I’ve realised I’m strangely at peace with the idea of my own death. What I’m not at peace with and maybe never will be is the thought of losing the people I love. Watching someone you care about walk through grief is one of the sharpest pains life can hand you. A part of you goes with the person you lose, and somehow life reshapes you in ways you never asked for.

This week, those thoughts have sat with me more than usual. Not in a dark way just present. I keep thinking about how heavy grief is for the ones left behind. That part hurts the most.

This year alone, I’ve stood beside people mourning people they loved deeply. I’ve been in cold, quiet hospital corridors. I’ve gone to the mortuary in the middle of the night. I’ve cried over someone I never met simply because I could feel the ache of those who loved them. It reminded me again how fragile and sacred life really is.

As a child, I used to think it would be easier if I were the first one to go. Then life happened. Grief showed me its teeth. I watched each one of us shatter when my sister died, and I realised nothing about loss is ever simple.

And yet still every morning..I wake up and thank God for breath, for life, for one more day.

Love and light.

Cheers

Somewhere in the middle of the year, I read a quote that said, “There are flowers growing in my chest again.” I saved it. Somehow it made sense, but I thought it didn’t make sense in that moment not in the phase I was in.

Then on Saturday, 22nd November at 8:17 a.m., I got out of bed and the first thought that came to mind was, “There are flowers in my chest again.” I can’t tell why that was the very first thought, but I gently got up, headed to the living room to take my pen because I wanted to journal, and as I was walking, another thought struck me….“There are flowers in my chest.”
Not again. Because genuinely, I didn’t have an “again.” It was the first time I was truly feeling flowers growing in my chest.

For the first time, I felt so alive in my last stretch of 28 years of being alive.

I didn’t cry. I sat with the feeling. I felt it. Then I took my pen and I wrote… and I kept writing. And then I prayed.

The last paragraph of that journal entry read…
“28 years could be late. But it is not late for me. It is sacred. It has happened exactly how and when it was supposed to happen. Above everything, I am so grateful it has happened either way. I am so happy to experience flowers growing in my chest. I am so grateful to experience life within me. Love and light.”

Chapter 11 of 12 has been a mix of many things. On the first day of November I said,
“I’m walking into Chapter 11 with gratitude and love.”

And every day of it, I reminded myself to be grateful… even at one point when I almost lost my job, I still sat in the moment with gratitude. And that feeling has taught me just how much beauty there is in contentment.

I wake up every day to chase the life I desire, but layered within those beautiful ambitions, there’s a solid form of contentment that I’m still figuring out how to express. Honestly, I’ve been wanting to write about contentment, but I’m still feeling it.. still enjoying the beauty of it.

Taking every day with so much grace and gratitude. I have appreciated every day in this month of November.

Yesterday on Pinterest, I bumped into a quote by L. M. Montgomery that read…
“It was November, the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.”

Something so simple, easy to ignore and read like it’s nothing… but it left such a profound emotion in my heart. I smiled. And then I thought, honestly, that’s basically been November for me.
I have cried.
I have laughed.
I have gone off on people who tried to cross my boundaries. (I no longer play about my boundaries)
I have grown.
I have mastered contentment.
I have listened to beautiful music.
I have listened to lovely sounds on YouTube.
I have danced so much in my room.
I have been tired.
I have been full of life.
I have made beautiful memories.
I have been met by the most amazing surprises.
I have learnt to pause before responding.
I have learnt not to take other people’s actions personally.
I have lived.
I have fallen in love with myself so hard.
I have found life within me.
This has been November for me.. layered with truly living.

I’ve been excited about Decembers since I was a kid, as far as my memory goes. But I have never been this honestly excited.. with the life inside me, with the flowers growing within me. This one is a different one.

Just like Chapter 11, I am walking into Chapter 12 of 12 with a heart full of gratitude. Praying that God sees us through the end of the year with His protection and grace.

Wishing every soul that will bump into this an amazing month ahead. Live a little. Party hard if that’s your thing, okaaay play haaaard, and take good care of yourself.

Love and light.

Cheers.